Taking Care of You (Is Not Easy to Do) - the friendship version
by Aate
Summary: Dain thought that Thorin had ordered him to execute Bilbo when in actuality the injured king had only asked his trusted cousin to look after his friend, to "take care of Baggins." Bilbo manages to flee, and now Thorin will have to save Bilbo from all the dangers of the wilderness - which turns out to be difficult, as the hobbit thinks the dwarves are after him to kill him. gen
1. Dain's Misunderstanding

_A/N: I couldn't decide whether to make this a friendship or a romance fic, so I thought I'd write both versions. This is the friendship version. If you'd prefer the other, you can find it in my profile._

_First chapter, in which a relatively small misunderstanding happens and Dain messes things up_

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When Thorin had asked Dain, as an honoured relative, to "take care of Bilbo Baggins", Thorin had simply meant that he wanted Dain to look after Bilbo – to make certain that Bilbo had everything he needed, that Bilbo's future was secured – in case Thorin happened to die to his wounds and couldn't do all that himself. Unfortunately, under the circumstances, Dain interpreted the words as something completely different, and so, after leaving Thorin's tent, Dain sent three of his most loyal warriors to find the hobbit; Bilbo Baggins was to be "taken care of" for once and for good "by order of Thorin Oakenshield".

"Bring the halfling to my tent as soon as you have found him," Dain gave his orders. "To honour my cousin, I shall execute the hobbit myself."

Birun and Hirin, sons of Gurin, and Jugor, son of Gudor, bowed and left, muttering about traitorous hobbits who certainly deserved the direst of consequences after daring to steal from the Durin's folk.

The three muttering warriors passed by Gandalf who was approaching Thorin's tent like an ominious thundercloud. Sighing to himself, Dain gave the wizard a respectful bow, pushing the halfling and Thorin's regretful order momentarily out of his mind.

"Gandalf," said Dain, once the wizard was close enough to hear his words properly. "I have been lead to believe that you have considerable powers – do what you can to save my cousin and you shall be generously rewarded."

"Dwarves!" Gandalf huffed and rapped Dain in the head with his shaft. "What I do, I do for reasons other than the rewards you can promise me, Dain Ironfoot, son of Nain, son of Gror. Make yourself useful and go find me my missing hobbit, while I do what I can for your cousin."

Had Gandalf known that Dain was planning on executing his missing hobbit, he probably would have done something more than simply rapped Dain's head with his shaft. But as it happened, Gandalf didn't know, and so he pushed pass Dain, grumbling in a language Dain didn't understand, swiped the flap aside and entered the royal tent without waiting to be neither invited nor announced.

Dain didn't bother to search for the missing hobbit, as he had his best warriors up on the task already. Instead, he took his time to visit his kin, visit the young princes who were both gravely injured.

Even though Dain didn't exactly remember which one of the princes was the crown prince and which one was the spare, he came soon to the conclusion that the fairer one was the crown prince, Fili – the fairer one had a longer beard, while the beard of the darker one was barely more than a youngling's stubble, which meant that the fairer one was most likely the older one of the two. Both of them were very young and Dain couldn't understand why Thorin had allowed children to accompany him to such a dangerous quest. It angered him that the honoured cousin had done so; young ones were few as it was and their lives shouldn't have been wasted like this.

"Give the princes the best care you possibly can," Dain ordered the healers, watching with concern as more and more of the precious blood of the line of Durin was _wasted _to the undeserving ground.

Kili – if that truly was the darker prince's name – was injured in the stomach. When Dain craned his neck, he saw guts, from all the blood that was spurting out of the wound, and something that he assumed was muscle tissue. The poor boy was gasping for breath and calling for his mother and uncle and asking after someone called "Fee", while his brother laid completely still and silent and deathly pale, barely breathing at all. The fairer prince had a spear sticking out of his shoulder, which – Dain had to admit – looker rather gruesome, especially on such a young lad.

"If you cannot spare people and supplies to save them both," Dain sighed, resigned, "concentrate on the one that is more likely to survive and let the other one die. It doesn't really matter which one of them lives as long as at least one does."

"We'll do our best," said one of the healers, a black-bearded one, as he frowned down at the prince that Dain assumed was Fili. "If His Lordship is planning on staying in this tent to observe our work, he is welcome to do so, but I would humbly request that he would move his respectfully wide behind nearer to the entrance and keep it there, as that is the only place it wouldn't be in our way. Otherwise, I will personally see him out of my healing tent."

Dain almost smiled at the healer's words – he rather liked healers that dared to challenge him – and took a chair to sit at the entrance where he had planned on sitting in the first place. The entrance was a good place to observe what was happening both inside and outside the tent, and so Dain didn't complain, nor did he scold the black-bearded healer from ordering him around (even though he did memorize the healer's features, just for future references).

By the time the darker prince fell silent and one of the – apparently less experienced – healers began to swear in Khuzdul, Dain could suddenly see movement near his own tent on the other side of the clearing on which all the dwarven tents had been pitched. Immediately, he moved the flap of the healing tent's entrance aside to see better: ahh, it seemed like Hirin and Jugor had finally managed to find the halfling and were now leading him towards Dain's tent, just as ordered.

Dain stood up, stretching his numb limbs, before moving the chair closer to the desk, back to its original place.

"Well," he said, adjusting his belt, "what does it look like? Will either one of the princes live?"

"Too early to tell," squeaked the less experienced healer, wiping Kili's spurting blood from his sweaty face with the back of his trembling hand. "They are both very badly injured."

"Yes, I had noticed," Dain said drily. "As I said: if one of them is doing better than the other, concentrate on him. Keep me informed about their condition, but more importantly, keep at least one of them alive, if at all possible."

With that, Dain left the healers to work in peace in order to behead Bilbo Baggins.

In all honesty, Dain did feel sorry for the halfling, as he had always had a secret soft spot for the simple-minded people, one of which Dain considered Bilbo Baggins to be. A simpleton – what else could a being like Baggins be, a soft little thing that stole the Arkenstone and then ran around a battlefield _without any shoes on_? Had the situation been different, Dain would have tried to reason with Thorin, asking the king to reconsider the harsh penalty, pleading for the hobbit's apparent simplicity.

Reaching his tent, Dain entered, while motioning for his warriors to follow. Once inside and properly shielded from any curious looks, Dain turned to look at the hobbit.

Bilbo Baggins had apparently been hit in the temple with something blunt during the battle. The shaft of an orc axe, most likely, but it was difficult to say for certain. There was bruising and blood on the left side of the hobbit's face and the poor little thing looked even more confused and disoriented than he had the last time Dain had seen him. He appeared to have some trouble balancing and his squinted eyes kept wandering around the tent as if there was something wrong with his vision. The hobbit's hairy legs were dirty and covered with scratches, his clothes torn and bloody. All in all, Bilbo Baggins looked worn but, regretfully, alive.

Dain had hoped that the hobbit would have died in the battle. That way Dain wouldn't have had to execute him. The Lord of the Iron Mountains was many things, but a killer of children, elders and simpletons he was not.

Except he was. Or was about to become one, at least.

"How are you feeling, Master Baggins?" Dain asked, deciding it was best to keep the halfling calm by chattering about this and that for as long as possible. No reason to scare the little one quite yet, was there.

"Uh, I'm a bit... confused, to be honest," the hobbit admitted, blinking furiously, while Dain went to fetch his execution axe from one of the chests. "I don't- I think I was hit in the head, but I fell unconscious and now everything's a bit... fuzzy. No. Not fuzzy, exactly. I mean that there are two of everything. Two of... everything. But I suppose that happens, sometimes..."

"Oh, yes, yes, that certainly happens," Dain agreed amiably. "At least it can happen when one has a concussion, like you probably do at the moment. Nasty things, concussions. But worry not, simple one, soon it will all be better and you will feel nothing."

Hirin, Birun and Jugor, surrounding the hobbit, exchanged displeased glances.

"_I would like to remind you, my lord, that the hobbit stole from Thorin Oakenshield_," Birun dared to say, having the good sense to speak in Khuzdul to prevent the hobbit from understanding and getting panicked. "_He is a traitor and should be punished accordingly. He should be flogged in public, before you cut his throat and fill many bottles with his blood for all the Durin's folk to enjoy_._ He doesn't deserve a quick death._"

"_He is a simpleton_," Dain said stiffly, using Khuzdul as well. "_And as a simpleton, he should be shown at least some mercy. He cannot help being foolish, can he. I was told to take care of him and I have every intention to do just that, but I will be quick about it. I'm not going to make it any more painful for him than it has to be._"

After some hesitation, Birun inclined his head respectfully, Hirin and Jugor following his example.

"_As you wish, my lord_," he said, although he still looked noticeably discontent – Dain wasn't particularly bothered.

The hobbit didn't offer any resistant when he was taken back outside the tent. He didn't resist at all when Jugor pushed him onto his knees on the dirty ground, apparently thinking that his new position was due to his own current lack of balance. He even apologized for stumbling, sounding embarrassed and painfully sincere. Dain felt a quick stab of guilt in his heart. It was wrong to use a simpleton's trust like this.

While the execution was being prepared – while a suitable block of wood was being located and collected, that was – the hobbit began to ask, rather timidly (but, nevertheless, quite determinedly), after Thorin and the members of Thorin Oakenshield's company. Had anyone been hurt in the battle, he wanted to know. Where were his friends? None of them had been injured, had they? He hadn't seen anyone he knew, but all his friends were still alive, weren't they? Weren't they, Master Dain?

Master Dain?

When he wasn't given any answers, the hobbit began to become agitated. And when the block was placed in front of him and Dain suddenly grasped him by the neck and forced his head to lean against the wooden block, it seemed to finally dawn on the poor thing what was going on.

Sighing to himself, Dain watched as the hobbit's eyes grew large with understanding. It seemed that it was time to get started and get the execution over with as soon as possible. As necessary as they usually were, executions were rarely anything Dain looked forward to.

"You, Bilbo Baggins, have betrayed Thorin Oakenshield," Dain declared and the hobbit, giving a little start, looked up at him from his uncomfortable position.

Dain forced himself to meet the gaze of the wide eyes, the eyes that stared up at him pleadingly, with desperation, with so many unuttered thoughts and questions.

"By stealing the Arkenstone, you betrayed Thorin Oakenshield and all those who are loyal to him. Now you must face the consequences of your actions. On the orders of Thorin Oakenshield, you shall be taken cared of."

The hobbit let out a strangled noise.

"T-Thorin ordered you to k-kill me?" he asked in a choked voice, apparently too shocked to move, as he wasn't struggling one bit.

Giving a curt nod, Dain let go off the halfling's neck and lifted his execution axe in the air, throwing it back. He then said as soothingly as he could, "You won't feel a thing, little one. This axe is in excellent condition and I shall be very quick about it."

"Quick about what?" asked a voice from behind them and Dain, startled, twirled around, coming face to face with grim-looking Balin. Dain let the axe fall down to his side, as it simply wouldn't do to stand in such a threatening poise in front of one of Thorin's most trusted advicors.

"You gave me quite a start, Master Balin, son of Fundin," Dain admitted, letting out a forced chuckle.

The older dwarf didn't look amused at all, as he took a step closer to Dain – Hirin, Birun and Jugor stepped by Dain's side, giving Balin calculating looks, probably to assess the level of threat the angry-looking dwarf was posing to their lord.

"Quick about _what_, exactly, Dain of Iron Mountains?" Balin repeated, something dark flashing in his eyes as his gaze took in the execution axe. "You are not planning on... doing anything rash with that execution axe, are you? I would suspect that Prince Thorin would get quite upset if you were to execute Master Baggins either on purpose or by accident."

"Actually," Dain said, a tad bit annoyed at being interrupted, as he truly would have liked to have been quick about the execution and hated to make the scared little hobbit to wait, "I am merely following orders of my cousin's: he specifically told me that I was to take care of the hobbit and that's exactly what I am doing. So if you don't mind..."

Dain began to turn around, but to his surprise, his arm was seized by a quick hand. Balin was grasping his arm tightly, firmly, ignoring the warning looks Hirin, Birun and Jugor were giving him.

"An execution," Balin said grimly, studying Dain's expression with narrowed eyes, "was not what Prince Thorin had in his mind when he asked you to take care of Master Baggins, of his _friend. _He asked you, as his trusted relative, to make certain that Master Baggins would be well looked after, that he was given warm meals and a comfortable chamber. He didn't ask you to 'take care of Bilbo Baggins' in any way that could cause harm to the hobbit."

They stared at each other for quite a while, Dain and Balin. Then Dain blinked and frowned. He turned to look at the hobbit, clearing his throat.

But Bilbo Baggins was nowhere to be seen.

Bilbo Baggins had fled.

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_A/N: Would you like to read more?  
_


	2. Bilbo's Realizations

_A/N: Thank you for the reviews! It's always nicer to write when I know there's someone actually reading. :)_

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There was something that Bilbo could only call "voiceless roaring" in his mind.

"T-Thorin ordered you to k-kill me?" he managed to choke out.

Dain nodded and withdrew his cold hand from Bilbo's neck.

The rough surface of the wooden block felt uncomfortable against Bilbo's bruised face, but he was unable to move, even as Dain had just released him. He was frozen to the spot by the cold truth that Thorin hated him, that Thorin had ordered Dain to kill him, that Thorin wanted him dead.

Thorin wanted him dead.

Thorin had ordered Bilbo to get beheaded. Thorin had ordered his warriors to find Bilbo and bring him to the execution. Thorin, _Thorin_, hated Bilbo passionately enough to give orders for him to be killed. Thorin, Bilbo's friend. The one Bilbo cared for, worried for, had protected. The one Bilbo had laughed with, shared stories with, eaten with...

A black axe appeared in Bilbo's line of sight. Dain lifted the axe up in the air, looking down at Bilbo with something akin to pity in his usually very suspicious eyes. Bilbo didn't notice Dain's look, as he couldn't tear his gaze away from the glinting axe. He stared at the horrible weapon, transfixed, not quite processing anything that was happening.

The double vision caused Bilbo to see two Dains. Two Dains, both of them holding similar black axes. Two Dains about to execute him.

"You won't feel a thing, little one," the Dains grunted. "This axe is in excellent condition and I shall be very quick about it."

"Quick about what?" asked Balin's voice, quite unexpectedly.

Bilbo couldn't look away from the axes for long enough to confirm whether it was truly his friend that had spoken. Instead, he watched as the two Dains turned around and lowered their axes upon recognizing the speaker.

A violent shiver ran through Bilbo when he realized that Dain's axe could have just gone through his neck, cut through his throat, separated his head from his body. Dain could have just hit him with the axe instead of letting it fall to his side. Dain could have just executed him.

By the order of Thorin.

When the realization hit him, when Bilbo fully realized that the dwarves were really about to execute him, that he was about to get killed, that the dwarves were determined to end his life, to prevent him for seeing another sunrise, another day, the voiceless roar in his ears intensified and something sharp wrapped around his heart, clenching it painfully. With a pained gasp, Bilbo began to struggle. He didn't want to die. Not now. And certainly not like this.

Not by the order of his dear friend.

To his surprise, there was no-one holding him down, no hands keeping him in place. Dain's warriors weren't even looking at his way, apparently not believing that Bilbo would run off, even though that was exactly what Bilbo was about to do.

Bilbo fumbled for his pocket and put his shaking hand into it, managing to slip the Ring onto his ring finger. As soon as the Ring was on his finger, his surroundings grew grey and shadowy, which meant that the Ring had thankfully worked, that the Ring's magic had once again managed to turn him invisible. It truly was a wonderful ring, most wonderful.

Bilbo began to crawl away from Dain as silently as he could. The lord was still talking with Balin – yes, the other speaker was indeed Balin, Bilbo noted (or two Balins as it currently looked like to Bilbo) – but even though Bilbo's ears heard every word, he was unable to focus on them, unable to fully grasp the meaning of the spoken words. The only words that penetrated the thick fog in his mind were Dain's, "merely following orders," and Balin's, "warm meals."

Bilbo thought it impossible that Balin would have agreed with Thorin on the execution. Balin had always been kind and patient with his hobbit friend, especially after Bilbo had stolen the Arkenstone – Balin, perhaps more than the others, had understood that Bilbo had been trying to keep all of them safe. Balin had very likely done all that he could to convince Thorin not to execute Bilbo, and when Thorin hadn't yielded, he had now come to ask Dain whether Bilbo – as a hobbit who valued food – could be given one last warm meal. Balin truly was a good friend.

Even though Bilbo was terrified and quite heartbroken, he was also relieved to realize that Thorin was well enough to be giving orders, that Thorin had survived the fierce battle. Unfortunately, it also appeared that Thorin was still under the curse of the dragon sickness, as he still hadn't come to realize that Bilbo had only stolen the Arkenstone to protect his friends, one of whom Thorin was.

If Thorin had been himself, he would have understood Bilbo's motives, of that Bilbo was certain. Thorin would have understood and felt horribly guilty of his own actions. Never would have Thorin ordered Bilbo to be executed had he been in his right mind.

But Thorin _had_ ordered Bilbo to get executed, so he couldn't be in his right mind. He simply _couldn't_. That was, at least, what Bilbo wanted to believe.

Bilbo was shaken from his thoughts by a loud shout. Looking behind, Bilbo saw that Dain had noticed his disappearance. With grave-looking Balin by his side, Dain began to yell and to emphasize his frantic yells by waving the black axe about. Dain was yelling orders to his warriors, but it was impossible for Bilbo to tell whether Dain was using Khuzdul or whether he himself was just too confused to understand Dain's words. In any case, Bilbo didn't understand anything, not one word. Even though he didn't understand what was being yelled, it was still quite obvious that Dain's words were about him: the lord was likely giving orders to the other dwarves to find the missing hobbit, the outlaw, the traitor who had dared to avoid getting executed.

Someone had rolled two large water barrels into the middle of the clearing and Bilbo did his best to made his way to them. It wasn't easy, as the ground kept rising and hitting him in the face, while his arms and legs were determined to reach their own, four completely separate destinations. Once Bilbo finally managed to force all of his limps to follow his command, it became slightly easier to crawl to the two barrels and slip into the narrow gap between them.

Once between the barrels, Bilbo fell down to his side, worn. He pressed his hands over his ears and squeezed his eyes shut, trying in vain to keep the tears from flowing, trying to keep himself from hearing Dain's shouts, or the agonizing voiceless roar in his mind.

Bilbo knew that he couldn't stay in his shelter for long. If anyone was to move one of the two barrels, even by accident, a hobbit could easily get smashed by the weight of a rolling water barrel.

The trouble was, Bilbo was too weak to do much anything. Even in his confused state of mind, Bilbo realized that he was in no condition to try to outrun dwarves. He couldn't stay anywhere near Erebor, as he didn't want to get killed, but it was a long way to the Shire and Bilbo required equipment if he was to even dream about making it back home. If he wanted to stay alive after escaping the execution, he had to be well-prepared, well-rested and very smart – a lot smarter than his friends, smarter than the dwarves.

But first, Bilbo needed to rest, desperately. He needed for the fog to leave his mind, for his thoughts to become clearer. He needed time to rest and to... collect himself, before he would even try to form any sort of plans of action.

Bilbo couldn't rest in any place with dwarves running around, certainly not in between two heavy water barrels in the middle of the dwarven camp.

The camps of elves and men were far too far for him to reach in his current condition. He would collapse long before reaching them.

Eventually, he came to the conclusion that the best place for him to rest was probably among the dead wargs, as morbid as it sounded. No-one would think to look for a hobbit among dead wargs, would they, nor would anyone come to look for their missing kin among the beasts and thus find Bilbo by accident. Yes, Bilbo would be quite safe on a pile of dead wargs, as long as he made sure to climb off of it before it was put on fire, before the carcasses were destroyed by burning. He had no intention, after all, to get burnt with the dead beasts.

Bilbo opened his eyes just as Balin and Dain were walking by the barrels, neither one of them noticing Bilbo due to his invisibility. They both looked very anxious, even though Dain didn't have the horrible black axe with him any more.

"... and Thorin certainly won't be pleased," Bilbo heard Balin saying when he removed his hands from his ears.

"Yes, this is indeed very unfortunate," Dain agreed in a grave voice. "Once the hobbit is found, I will make personally certain that he gets what he _truly_ deserves."

Bilbo groaned to himself at the threat, forcing himself up to his feet with the help of one of the water barrels. He had to get away, had to go somewhere safer. As soon as possible. If he stayed put, he would eventually be discovered, and he certainly didn't want Dain to give him what he "_truly_ deserved".

Half an hour later, Bilbo was clambering over piles and piles of dead wargs, trying to find a good spot to rest. He was very much aware of the limp muscles of the lifeless animals, as he sank his feet into coarse fur and grasped it with his hands, struggling to move over the large forms. The thick, pungent smell of the predators filled his nose and mouth, leaving him gasping for breath, while all of his senses roared at him to _run away_, to hide before he would get eaten. His Baggins side was calling him a mad fool for climbing on top of the monstrous beasts instead of seeking for a more sensible refuge from somewhere safer, while the Took in him insisted that a pile of dead wargs was really an excellent place to hide (temporarily).

The world was spinning around him and Bilbo laid down against a warg in order not to collapse on his feet. He was panting and trying not to think of his surroundings.

Bilbo was scared, honestly scared, scared enough to hide among dead wargs. He had been scared before in his life, of course, and often at that, but usually when he was scared, he wasn't scared of his friends. Usually when he was scared, he wasn't running from people he cared for. Usually his friends weren't after him, after his blood. Now they were, though, and Bilbo simply couldn't grasp the fact.

Bilbo had seen Bifur and Gloin running around with furious looks on their blood-stained faces. Dwalin had looked positively murderous when he had unknowingly passed by invisible Bilbo, a mere foot away from him. Dwalin had been muttering something about "simply killing the unreliable bastard," but Bilbo hadn't been foolish enough to follow the warrior to listen to any more of his muttered threats. With a sick feeling in his stomach, Bilbo had simply run – or done his best to run. It was currently impossible for him to actually move his legs that quickly, too disoriented as he was.

Thorin, Balin, Bifur, Gloin and Dwalin – they, at least, were alive. Bilbo could only hope that his other friends were alive as well.

Although Thorin wasn't really his friend any more, was he. If Thorin was giving commands on Bilbo's execution, the dwarf had to consider their friendship over. Thorin didn't want to be Bilbo's friend any more, which hurt, dragon sickness or not, as Bilbo still cared for the prince. He cared for Thorin deeply and his heart ached at the thought that Thorin would cast their gradually formed, carefully protected friendship aside like that. Just like that, without even talking with Bilbo first, without letting Bilbo explain.

And for what? What was the reason behind the loss of Bilbo's most precious friendship? A stone! A dratted _stone_! A pretty stone, but still just a stone.

A sudden flash of anger, hot and crushing, hit Bilbo, slamming against his form and making his state of mind even more confused.

If Bilbo was caught, he would get beheaded because of _a stupid piece of rock_, because Thorin had chosen the love for a dead stone over his friendship with Bilbo. That hurt more than Bilbo could even begin to describe.

That cursed Arkenstone. Oh, how Bilbo hated it! He _hated_ it! Hated!

Bilbo felt hot tears running down his cheeks and wiped his face angrily.

The thick fur of wargs, the fur all around him, felt coarse and wet, but with his Ring on, Bilbo couldn't tell whether it was blood or mud that was soaking through his clothes – the magic ring could turn him invisible, but it also took away all the lovely colours, turning Bilbo's world temporarily grey and oh so very miserable, so very like he now felt.

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_A/N: Hiding among wargs, hmm... Bilbo had to be pretty scared, don't you think._


	3. Dwalin and Some Plans of Action

When Dain promised Thorin to "take care of Bilbo Baggins", Dwalin was right there by Thorin's side, pressing on the wound on Thorin's thigh with a clean towel. Even though Dwalin heard the short exchange between the two cousins from word to word, he didn't suspect anything to be amiss.

Which was one of the three reasons why he reacted the way he did when Balin eventually managed to pry him away from Thorin's side and out of the royal tent only to inform him in a hushed voice that, due to a misunderstanding, Dain had almost beheaded their hobbit. The second reason why Dwalin, after hearing Balin's words, marched straight to Dain and shoved the unsuspecting lord quite violently down onto the hard ground was the fact that Dain wasn't the only person that Thorin had asked to take care of Bilbo.

The third reason why Dwalin did what he did... well, Thorin certainly wasn't the only one that had grown to care about the hobbit. Bilbo Baggins had many friends and Dwalin considered himself to be one of them.

"I have every right to take his life," Dwalin argued when Balin clung to his axe, refusing to let him strike Dain, the coward who, a misunderstanding or not, had tried to harm someone under Thorin's protection – that in itself was an insult worse than any slander could have been. "According to the Guardian Laws," Dwalin insisted, "I – as Thorin's most trusted warrior – am entitled to present Thorin with Dain's head on a plate for the way he-"

"_Do not_ q-quote the laws to me, b-brother," Balin interrupted, his teeth chattering audibly as Dwalin tried in vain to shook him off the axe. "If one of us is f-familiar with the legislation, it's me and we both k-know it. We both also know that now, of all times, is not the t-time for us to c-create any kind of political inconvenience. I am certainly not defending Lord D-Dain's less than u-unpleasant actions but we are now acting on Thorin's behalf. We c-cannot begin Thorin's rule b-by _killing his cousin_, the honoured Lord of the Iron Mountains! Think of what you are d-doing, Dwalin! At this point, violence simply is not an o-option."

"Listen to your brother, son of Fundin," wheezed Dain from where he was laying on his stomach, pinned down onto the ground by Dwalin's conveniently placed foot. "I admit that I made a mis- a _horrible_ mistake, but if you kill me, my followers will turn against Thorin and that would be very unfortunate for everyone."

Under Balin's serious gaze and faced with the truth of Balin and Dain's words, Dwalin had to reluctantly relent and refrain from beheading the unreliable bastard. Kicking the lord painfully in the back with the heel of his boot, Dwalin relaxed his arms. Breathing heavily from the exertion, Balin immediately snatched the axe from his hand and put it behind his back, taking a few cautious, shaky steps backwards.

"When _justice_ becomes an option once more, brother dear," Dwalin said gruffly, removing his foot to release Dain, "be sure to let me know. An insult has been offered; consequences must be faced."

"I will correct the... mistake I have done," Dain promised, scrambling up to his feet. "I meant no offense to anyone, least of all to my honoured cousin. And to my defence, I had, in fact, planned on the hobbit's execution to be quick."

"Is that supposed to mean something to me?" Dwalin grumbled, stepping closer to loom over the lord. "Because of you, Ironfoot, Baggins now thinks falsely of my king, of his _friend_. Of his _friends_, plural. He thinks that we are after him. He is under the impression that we want to see him harmed."

"Now, now, Master Dwalin," Dain said, smoothing down his clothes with slightly trembling hands. "Once we have found the hobbit, everything shall be explained to him. No lasting damage has been done, as you will surely see yourself."

"No lasting damage, indeed," Dwalin said through his gritted teeth, clenching his fists. "Have you ever tried to locate a hiding hobbit, Lord of the Iron Mountains? Because I have done so, in three separate occasions, and I know for a fact that it cannot be done. If Baggins doesn't want to be found, he won't be found."

Dain sighed, shaking his head in a disbelieving manner, while Balin placed himself carefully between his brother and Dain Ironfoot.

"I find it difficult to believe that a mere _halfling_ could avoid an entire army of my dwarves," Dain said with mild amusement. "But not everyone can be good at tracking, I suppose, so do not feel ashamed of your lack of skill, Master Dwalin. I am certain that you are worthy in... some other area."

"Dwalin is _excellent_ at tracking," Balin said, before Dwalin had managed to finish his sneer. "If he says that Master Baggins can be difficult to find, then Master Baggins is nearly impossible to find. In any case, I believe that we all agree that the need to locate Bilbo Baggins is one matter that should not be mentioned to Prince Thorin, at least not quite yet. There is enough on his mind as it is, with the young princes so gravely injured... . Prince Thorin needs to lay still and rest, not run around as he would do, if he found out about Bilbo's... situation. We certainly don't want him to try to get up. "

On that, Dwalin and Dain agreed, eagerly in Dain's case, hesitantly in Dwalin's.

"If something happens to Bilbo because of this, Thorin will never forgive any of us for not telling him," said Dwalin, his voice just as grave as his feelings.

With that, he turned away from Balin and Dain, focusing his mind on gathering the rest of the Company, so that they could begin to look for their hiding hobbit. Balin would, with no doubt, be too focused on politics and rebuilding arrangements to be able to help Bilbo, which meant that Dwalin was to be in charge of Bilbo's search. Dwalin had promised Thorin to take care of the hobbit and he was determined to keep his promise – there was little else he could currently do for his king.

"I've had enough of you, Dain Ironfoot," Dwalin was careful to spit over his shoulder, like any honourable warrior would have. "Stay out of my way, if you know what is good for you."

Dain raised his eyebrows.

"Under any other circumstances, Dwalin, son of Fundin, I would have your tongue for speaking to me like that," he stated.

They all knew that he would have, too, just as they all knew that it would have costed Dain both of his ears and at least one eye.

* * *

Ori had been mildly wounded, Dwalin knew, as he had been the one to carry the scribe to the healing tents with Dori who hadn't left his little brother's side since. Despite of five of the members of the Company staying in the healing tents, Dwalin could still see several of his friends gathered close together at the edge of the silent battlefield. Bofur was sitting on a dead orc, holding his unlit pipe between his lips with a faraway look upon his face, while Nori, Gloin and Bombur were standing beside him, apparently arguing whether it was disrespectful to bet money on which one of the Durins would get back to their feet first. Bifur was busy collecting cords from the clothing of the dead orcs, tying the pieces together and winding them into a tight ball, but upon noticing Dwalin approaching, he abandoned the task and hurried to sit next to Bofur on the fallen orc.

It was anything but pleasant to explain to the five battle-weary dwarves what Dain had almost done to their hobbit.

"That is simply unforgivable!" Bofur stated hotly, springing up to his feet, once Dwalin was done with his short unpleasant tale. "To think that such a precious life, Bilbo's life, could have been wasted like... like... Simply _unforgivable_! I, for one, will be demanding satisfaction on Bilbo's behalf."

Nori muttered his agreement.

"Satisfaction," he said in a low voice, leaning closer. "If Dain is going around executing defenceless, injured, confused creatures without even bothering to have the execution orders in writing, we might as well make _Dain_ defenceless and follow his cowardly example by-"

"That's enough, Nori," Bombur said sternly, straightening his back, while Nori folded his arms on his chest, a discontent look grazing his worn features. "We are all very angry over what has happened, but now is not the time to seek for revenge, nor for justice. The line of Durin is gravely injured, while their kingdom is waiting to be rebuild. An army of dwarves has to be fed... Oh, there is so much to be done, so many things to be arranged. We cannot cause any trouble, not right now! All we can now do, lads, is to focus all our attention on finding Bilbo before anything even more awful happens to him."

"Easier said than done," snorted Nori. "Eru, if Bilbo doesn't want to be found, he cannot be found. Have we not learnt that by now? We cannot find him. We will not find him."

"Oh, but you're forgetting that we are his good friends," Bofur remarked. "It's not like it was the last time we tried to find him, or the two times before that. By now, we _know_ him. Bilbo might not exactly want to be found by us, but we can use our knowledge of him to find him. We know that he is very smart, such a clever fellow. We know how he thinks. If we take all that we know about him into consideration, we just might be able to find him."

"Aye!" Gloin agreed. "We shall think like Bilbo Baggins and thus we shall find him!"

"He could be hiding anywhere," Nori said drily. "Remember that he has his magical ring. Besides, how are we supposed to think like Bilbo?"

"That's easy enough," Bofur said, "but before I even begin to help anyone to find my friend, I want some guarantee that he won't be harmed. How can I be certain that this isn't some plot of Thorin's? The last time I saw Bilbo and him talking, it wasn't in friendly terms at all."

There were murmurs and quiet grunts of speculation. Dwalin resisted the urge to defend his king's honour and sighed instead.

"I swear by my beard," he said, which was an oath enough to make the dwarves fall completely silent. "I swear by my beard and by Thorin's beard that Thorin doesn't want any harm to come to Bilbo. The dragon sickness left him the moment he heard of the wounds of his sister-sons, and since then, he has been quite... regretful of his actions."

"Very well, Dwalin," Bofur said after a long while. "I believe you."

"Now that that has been cleared," Nori said, "I repeat my question: Bofur, how are we supposed to think like Bilbo?"

"Well, we'll just imagine we're hobbits," Bofur said with a jovial sigh, kneeling down onto the blackened ground to make himself shorter.

The five dwarves all followed Bofur's example and crouched down as one, tilting their heads a bit as they studied their surroundings. None of them questioned Bofur's advice, as the toy maker was closest with Bilbo and thus knew more about hobbits than the other five. They all knew Bilbo well enough to understand that if they wanted to find the hobbit, more than a little stealth and intelligence was needed. Bilbo was clever, very smart, and they had to be even more so, if they wanted to locate their hiding friend. It was as good tactic as any to begin the search by trying to think like a hobbit – it was better, at least, than just running around without any kind of a plan, hoping to collide with an invisible halfling just by chance.

Dwalin frowned in concentration, as he touched his bald head, trying to imagine how it would feel if the bareness was covered with curly, soft-looking, golden locks of hair and if there was smoothness on his chin instead of a coarse beard. He focused his mind on wriggling his toes inside his boots to get a better understanding on how it was like to be Bilbo Baggins. He even went as far as to imagine that he had a handkerchief made of silk and lace in his pocket, but then a violent shiver ran down his back and he had to abandon that particular line of thought, imagining, instead, that he liked gardening, even though he didn't actually know any other flower but grass by name.

"Now," Bofur continued once they all had had a moment to think of themselves as hobbits, "if you were a hobbit hunted down by dwarves, where would you hide? Where would you go if you were Bilbo?"

Dwalin scowled, as he looked around the battlefield from his crouched position.

"To the elves," he said reluctantly. "Baggins is too naive and trusting for his own good. He might seek for Thranduil's aid in a situation such as this."

All six dwarves winced at the truth in Dwalin's words.

"Those pretentious tree-shaggers!" Gloin growled, shaking his axe threateningly with both of his hands. "If Bilbo is going to _elves_, a fate worse than an execution is waiting for him. Unlike him, we certainly know what elves are capable of – we must save our hobbit!"

"I could sneak into the elven camp," Nori suggested bravely, chewing his nails in a thoughtful manner. "Although I don't actually think that Bilbo has managed to get that far. According to Balin, Bilbo has a head injury and you don't walk far with those. Bilbo would have fallen unconscious long before reaching the elves and I believe him to be clever enough not to try to risk something like that. He must be somewhere reasonably close. He's probably resting and trying to treat his wounds somewhere near-by, wearing that ring of his."

"This is all Dain's fault," Bofur said with frustration, striking the air angrily with his pipe, as if the pipe was a sword and the air Dain. "If something happens to Bilbo because of him..."

"-then we shall kill Dain Ironfoot," Dwalin finished. "No matter how politically inconvenient."

"None of us will let this slide," Bofur agreed.

"Enough of this useless blabbering," Gloin said, rising to his feet. "The longer we talk, the further away Bilbo can get. We need to find him as soon as possible. His head injury might be serious and it's certainly not getting any better by him running around."

"Someone should guard the water barrels," Bombur said with a frown, as Gloin helped him to stand up. "At some point, Bilbo will need to get some water. If we keep a subtle eye out for the barrels and suddenly notice one of them unplugging for seemingly no reason at all, we might be able to find him, even if he is invisible. Another place Bilbo might want to visit is Fili and Kili's tent, so someone should observe the tent flaps as well. It's not currently that windy, so if the flaps move without anyone touching them, it's probably safe to assume that it's Bilbo causing them to move."

"Bilbo is smarter than that," Bofur said with conviction. "If we want to find him, we will need to look into places in which no-one would ever come to think he would be hiding."

"And what could those places be?" Dwalin inquired, although his eyes had narrowed and he was already observing one of the manure-covered disposal pits that had been dug in the ground in order to have a place for all the waste an army of dwarves would produce. Could Bilbo be hiding in one of the disposal pits? No-one would think to look for him in there, at least.

"Generally, I mean places in which a scared hobbit would never go," Bofur explained. "I don't know what, exactly, those places could be, but I think that that's where Bilbo would be a situation like this. He would never think anyone would choose to hide in an uncomfortable or a scary place, so that's where he would go, thinking that no-one would come looking for him in there either."

"So we just need to think about places that Bilbo wouldn't want to go in in a situation like this?" Nori summed up with a curt nod. "Sounds easy enough. Thorin's tent, for one, must be a scary place for Bilbo at the moment. Besides, Gandalf is in there, so it's all the more reason for Bilbo to try to enter."

"Yes, definitely," Bofur agreed. "Someone needs to keep an eye for Thorin's tent, as well as Fili and Kili's tent and the water barrels. Any other places Bilbo might hide?"

Bifur had, it seemed, come to think of many places where Bilbo could be, but unfortunately none of them understood Bifur's frantic words or wild gesturing. Noticeably frustrated, Bifur stood up and walked away, apparently determined to begin the search on his own.

After Bifur was out of their line of sight, the five remaining dwarves fell silent, falling deep in thought as they tried to think like hobbits. Dwalin wriggled his toes and stroked his bald head, imagining it was covered with soft locks.

"Baggins might be hiding among the deceased," he eventually mused, doing his best to think like Bilbo. "If that is the case, he would most likely be laying somewhere among orcs or wargs, as that is where no-one would be looking for their deceased kin."

"The water barrels, Fili and Kili's tent, Thorin's tent and the battle field, especially the areas with orcs and wargs," Bofur listed. "We'll start with those. Nori, you can keep an eye for the water barrels and Fili and Kili's tent. Dwalin, you should go to Thorin's tent. The rest of us can search the battlefield. Try to look friendly and as approachable as possible, so that if Bilbo happens to see you, he might be encouraged enough to say something to you."

"We shall do our best," they all said, and thus began the search for the hiding hobbit.

Dwalin was swift with his steps when he walked back towards Thorin's tent. The whole situation and his own helplessness frustrated him to no end. He could do nothing for Fili and Kili and all he could do for Thorin was to try to find the hobbit that wasn't supposed to be missing in the first place.

If only Dwalin could have released some of his frustration by attacking Dain, by _simply killing that unreliable bastard_! Shouldn't have been too hard, considering the way the guilty lord had sent most of his guards to look for Bilbo. Dwalin didn't really care how desperately Dain was trying to mend the situation, as nothing could change his opinion of the Lord of the Iron Mountains. What a coward, trying to behead defenceless hobbits like that!

And what a fool, trying to behead their fierce little hobbit.

Dwalin never realized he had just brushed by their hiding, fierce little hobbit, terrifying the poor thing into almost passing out with his vengeful mutterings.

* * *

_A/N: Poor Bilbo, I've left him hiding in that pile of wargs for such a long time. Next chapter, there should be Thorin._


End file.
